


Cold Snap

by catwantsfishie



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Cold, Established Relationship-ish, Fourth Wall, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Short One Shot, The Werebeaver, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwantsfishie/pseuds/catwantsfishie
Summary: Woodie and Wolfgang are having trouble surviving through the winter. When things get especially tough, they have to resort to more desperate measures.
Relationships: Wolfgang/Woodie (Don't Starve)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Cold Snap

The Winter that had bit the Constant was unusually miserable and freezing, with breaks in snowfall being almost too short to keep a fire, let alone warm thermal stones.

Woodie and Wolfgang found themselves alternating between exploring and staying in the tent for the day, both activities together, as the only heat they could find was in each other. Sure, the beefalo had been an easy fight, and had provided many meals worth of meat and enough fur for coats for the both of them.

But, that was during autumn, and the strongman's ravenous hunger had bore through even the dried jerky for emergencies. Even with the strange gifts falling from the sky, all they had gotten were thin shirts and the occasional pair of gloves or socks. The lumberjack had attempted to sew the garments together into a Frankenstein quilt, but it was so cold that it brought little value. When a stroke of luck had come and they had received a huge fur coat, with their agreement to alternate wearing it and their unfortunate luck, Woodie had been wearing the sweet solace when the full moon rose.

That was a few days ago. The moon was waning now as it just rose above the horizon, and the two men were making their way back to the camp. Wolfgang clutched a blindingly bright lantern to his chest, occasionally swinging it like a punch at the darkness, shaking from cold and fear. Woodie held a torch to maintain his own light - he was willing to make sacrifices to keep his partner's fear of the dark at bay. As they arrived at their small camp, Woodie carefully grabbed the other's light source from him and doused it, not wanting to waste more oil than they needed. The strongman made a whine of protest, but when he was given the torch he stopped and tossed it directly into the fire.

"There." He huffed, brushing his hands off on his pants. "Now is light."

"But not warm," Woodie remarked, sitting himself down with a huge sigh. Now was his time to relax. He had been moving literally all day. If there was one thing Wolfgang knew, it was the importance of keeping active to keep warm, and he liked to remind him of that regularly. And enforce it.

"N..no. Is cold." This winter cut through even their lines of defense - the larger's body mass, and the shorter's beard - had no effect when usually, during winter, they would skimp on the warmest clothes because of them.

With his musculature accustomed to lots of stress, the strongman had no problem staying standing, in fact he was currently neck-deep in the icebox. He returned with a jar's worth of jam, a pile of meatballs enough to feed Woodie for a week, and the remaining stale pierogis, and immediately began eating.

"Here!" He perked up and held out his hands, but instead of food he found his axe being passed to him, who was already protesting.

"Because...cold box has no more. Beard can eat tree stuff."

"Your hands are cold!" Lucy whined. Woodie sighed and stood, turning and walking to the nearest copse of trees and getting to work. Once he’d gotten into the soft bark of the trunk, he pulled a strip off and chewed it. As the only one of them who could palate the greener parts of their world, he wasn’t opposed to consuming it, but it didn’t fill him. And the gnawing feeling at his stomach was distracting enough without his axe griping every other second.

He quickly dispatched the tree, then returned Lucy to the fur-lined chest she’d insisted on having all to herself, working his teeth on the log in his other hand. -- A few hours after their meal, the two men were huddled in the tent, silently alone with their thoughts as the moon continued its slow climb across the sky, when suddenly Wolfgang broke the silence.

“Beardman?”

“Hm?”

“Is...is...so cold."

"I know, bud, but, there's nothin' we can do…"

His voice trailed off as he made eye contact with the other, whose skin was literally blue. He looked as if his muscles and fat would start to go, as if this were the most strenuous exercise he had ever done, the way he was shivering so violently.

"Oh gosh. Uh, Wolfgang, hold on…" Woodie picked up his bedroll and wrapped it around the man's shoulders, but it had no effect. When he tried to huddle against him for warmth instead, he discovered even his skin was cold to the touch.

Nothing they had would be enough. He grimaced and pulled back, now seeing that Wolfgang had wrapped his arms around himself and shut his eyes, as if resigned to this state until either death or spring came. He looked around their tent again, but the only thing left was the tattered fur from the coat he'd broken. He felt even worse about this now, he was usually so good with the Werebeaver…

That gave Woodie an idea. A stupid one, that he would regret, but it would save Wolfgang's life, so if you asked him, it was a good idea.

"I'll be right back." He patted the shivering man's shoulder and stood up, taking off his overcoat and hat and walking out into the cold. It hit him like a slap to the face. He hadn't been out without his warm layers on, and this was awful. But he had to power through.

He walked to their icebox and opened it, shoving his arm past the empty containers to the item he remembered they had made on impulse, stored for an 'emergency situation' that neither of them actually knew the conditions of. His fingers closed around something small and wooden and he pulled it out with a victorious grin. A small effigy of a crudely-carved beaver tied to a piece of monster meat with string. It was laughable how powerful something that simple could be. But there was no time to think - he shoved it into his mouth and forced himself to chew and swallow it - the deathly taste of monster meat was not at all muffled by the wood and grass, which made it difficult - but soon he got it down.

Immediately afterwards he was hit with a splitting headache, which then spread to the rest of his body. When the pain became almost blinding it suddenly dulled, as did the hurting feeling of the cold.

That was a lot better.

The Werebeaver looked down at his body before carefully crawling back into the tent, barely fitting in with Wolfgang. The strongman yelled in surprise despite his condition and impulsively swung a punch at him. It hit his shoulder weakly, when usually even in his transformed state Wolfgang's punches could stagger him back.

The Werebeaver chuffed, looking down at the other and frowning. He took him in his arms gently and laid down, curling up like a cat and keeping the weaker man at his chest. The shaking of the other man slowed and soon stopped, and he could feel the breath against his fur becoming warmer and more even. Woodie sighed in relief, curling more protectively around his partner as he tried to fall asleep.

Everything was well in the Constant, at least for another night.


End file.
